Rise of the Giver
by Teshikameku
Summary: This is a creepy one-shot my friends and I joke about all the time. Basicly, The Giver goes insane after Jonas leaves and takes revenge. (Someone said that there was a f.f. like this, but I don't read F.F.'s about 'The Giver' so sorry if you've read somthing on the lines of this story before, I honestly didn't know.)


**-I don't own 'The Giver'-**

The room was pitch-black, except for the one light that lit up the desk. The old man put his face in his hands. Why had he let Jonas escape? He knew the consequences were very bad. He was going to be released two days from now. Oh, how he wished he could've gone with Jonas, get away from this evil utopia, but it was too late, and he had given too many memories away to survive. The Giver stood up. His face was full of anger and rage, and then he stomped to the door that made a wall between him and the outside world. "Those people are going to pay," he said out loud in a menacing voice.

Drake stood outside, looking at the House of the Old. He volunteered there now, and when he did he got to see one of his older friends Fiona work there. He placed his bike neatly on a bike rack outside and sauntered into the place.

Fiona was bathing an old woman named Sandra when Drake walked in.

"Hello Drake! Ready to do some volunteer hours?" Fiona asked in her sweet voice.

Drake smiled and said, "Yes," and then found a bath and helped an elderly man into the tub. Fiona was happy, but not as happy as she used to be for some reason. About a month ago, one of her best friends disappeared right after Drake started volunteering here instead of the hospital. He liked to be around Fiona, she was nice.

The Giver placed his hands firmly onto the door handle and opened the steel door. The woman at the front desk looked over her shoulder and strictly said, "I'm sorry Henry, but you mustn't come out of there. You are in deep trouble about what you did, and we have these cameras to prove it," she held up a small camera, and then some film, "You must remain in there until your releasing date." Henry however, thought differently. He pulled out a knife from behind his back that he'd kept in one of the books when he was younger, and threw it at the woman. She looked up to see a knife in her forehead, then fell down to the floor and died. Blood stained her clothes and the floor around her, the color a sickly deep red. Henry chuckled. "It's time to escape this place."

Fiona passed Drake a special shampoo. "Use this now, since you're almost out of the other one," she said. Drake took the salmon-colored bottle from her and squeezed the bottle so some of it could come out. He lathered it on an old lady's skull. The old lady smiled and said, "What's your name young man?" Drake looked down at her and gave a sweet anime smile. "My name is Drake and I'm an eleven, what's yours?" The old woman closed her pale green eyes and said, "My name's Dorothy, my how big you are for an eleven!" Drake replied, "That's because I was the first born in that year." Dorothy nodded, making it a little hard for Drake to wash her light brownish-grey hair.

Henry had killed over ten people now. He took his knife and shuffled over to a small fence on the outside of someone's home. He held his head, the pain. It was the memory of murdering, it was corrupting his mind. He lied down on the grass, and remembered how it went…

_The streets were dark. It was raining hard as well. The lady walked up to her home and knocked on the door. "Hallo?" she said, but nobody answered. She tried again, but still there was no answer. She then kicked the door and turned to walk down the grey steps. Little did she know she was being watched by a man. The lady opened her umbrella and walked down the street. "Zhat piece of schiebe, vho does he zhink I am?" She said out-loud. The man came from out of the bushes and pulled out a six-shooter gun and aimed at the woman. She stomped and kept yelling the man's name. "Lois! Lois you dummkopf, get zhe __hölle over here! I don't have all eveni-" she fell to the floor, a bullet had gone through her left arm. She held it, tears swelled up in her blue eyes. A shadow walked up to her and gave her an evil smile. "Hallo my sweet," he said, and then a knife plunged through her throat._

Henry got up and held the knife to his face so he could see his reflection. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his wrinkles were very noticeable. He tried to remember a memory he had to make him younger, and have the ability to do more and not be so tired, but in would only work when he was having the memory. Screw that.

Drake had been at the House of the Old with Fiona for over four hours, and he looked outside to see that it was getting late. "Fiona I need to go, my mother said that I need to not be late this time for sharing our feelings," Drake said as he got up. Fiona gave a slight nod and Drake left.

Drake rode his bike across the lake to his house. The one with the wooden fence and the brown exterior on the corner. It looked like every single house in the community in fact. As he parked his bike, he noticed a figure leaning against his fence. Drake walked over, and saw an old man with blood all over his body. Drake decided he would help heal this man, because he had done nothing but volunteer at the hospital until he met Fiona last month. His parents said he should try something else, but Drake wanted to become a doctor.

Henry breathed heavily. His head was spinning with frustration. He heard footsteps on the grass and turned his head to see a young boy around the age of thirteen, or that's what The Giver thought. He pulled out a first-aid kit attached to his pants and kneeled down next to him. "Do you need medical help sir?" he asked. The Giver smiled evilly and whispered, "Come here, child." Drake didn't know what do, so he came closer to Henry. Henry then whispered, "What's your name?" Drake looked up to see him and said, "My name is Drake, and I'm an eleven!" The Giver's smile turned into a frown, but then he got up off the ground and pointed a bony finger at Drake. "THAT'S NOT YOUR NAME! THAT'S WHAT THIS EVIL COMMUNITY CALLS YOU BY! AND YOU'RE NOT AN ELEVEN! THEY JUST THROUGH YOU IN WITH THE REST OF THE LADS BORN IN THAT YEAR! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A DEMON CHILD THAT RESPECTS THIS PLACE!" Drake backed away. "Sir, I think that you need deep medical help, I can help you," Drake said calmly. He moved closer to the old man, but he tripped over his foot. Drake was lying on his stomach, and The Giver kneeled down next to him. "You're just another community's child." Henry placed his hands onto Drake's back and twisted his skin. Drake winced. Then, The Giver thought of the most cruel, violent memory he had. The memory of death.

_The young boys sat on the porch petting his pet cat. There was no sound coming from anywhere, except for the birds chirping, the wind blowing through the trees, and his cat, shadow, purring as the boy's fingers pet his black fur. The boy's dad walked out of the house and said to the boy, "Vale Pedro, I'm off to go see Sra .Antly, if you need me, ¿sólo llame, sí" Pedro nodded, and his dad handed him the key to their new home in America. They had moved there from their home-town in Mexico. Pedro's dad now worked for a very wealthy man who would give Pedro's dad a lot of money. Pedro got up off the porch and Shadow jumped off as he stood up strait, his midnight black spiky hair blowing in the wind. He turned around to open the door, but said out- loud, "But it's such a fine day to paseo around the neighborhood, ¿No?" Shadow stayed quiet as Pedro walked away._

_"C'mon Phil!" Lawrence yelled, holding an air soft gun. Phillip, Lawrence, and a few other boys were playing a game of war. Phillip was hiding because another member of the opposite team. However, the real reason that Phillip was hiding was because the enemy hunting him had an AK47. Lawrence found Phillip hiding in a bush and yelled, "Phil! Look! Free shot!" Lawrence held up his gun and aimed it at the boy with the AK47, and took a shot. He missed, but got the kid's attention. The kid held up the gun, but before he shot Phillip tripped him, but the shot was taken._

_Pedro sauntered down the cement road. He started to hum the song 'Volver a comenzar'. He then heard a gun-shot, and looked over at a small forest. He blinked, but when he opened his eyes, there was blood coming from his leg. Pedro held it as he fell to the ground. Blood spilled everywhere, painting the sidewalk with a deep shade of red. He then heard some kids yelling, and looked over his shoulder to see two boys running towards him._

"_Is he dead?" One said; he was tall and dark skinned with a blue baseball cap said._

"_No, he's still breathing dude," Another said, his face lighter and an 'L' on his shirt. _

_Pedro's body then fell limp, the two boys kneeled down next to him and rapped a bandage around his knee, and hoped that that insane boy hadn't killed this poor innocent person. And, as if it was a sacrifice, Pedro died._

_Later that day, Pedro's father was driving back from his job. He turned a curve, and hit the brakes at the sight before his eyes. There lay young Pedro, dead. _

Drake's eyes shot open, tears in his eyes. What had this old man corrupted his mind with? He tried to get up, but fell back down. He felt weird inside, like he hadn't taken his pills for the Stirrings. He looked up at Henry, but his sight was blurry from the tears. The Giver laughed and said, "Aren't you not suppose to have feelings _Drake?_" The word 'Drake' slithered out. Drake held his head, and then fainted.

Henry walked away from the child. He felt so good to get rid of a horrible memory, but he also realized how it might've scared the kid. "No, these people don't have any feelings," The Giver said. He walked slowly over the bridge, but sped up once he was off it. As he left, he turned to look out at the city. He smiled and said slyly, "Enjoy your memories, bastards."

**(Notes to readers PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU REVIEW)**

**Ok, LOL. I only wrote this story because my friends and I talk about how The Giver twists kids' backs and corrupts their minds with bad memories, so I tried to make a violent one-shot. I know The Giver would never do this, but I wanted to make this for laughs and stuff, yeah it's not a serious Fanfiction only because The Giver (I'll call him Henry from now on) not acting like Henry would. Anyway, I hope you found this Fanfiction somewhat interesting and stuff, but please don't leave negative reviews. ****I don't want to go to bed thinking that I failed readers. Please, if you have anything negative, leave it to yourself, thank-you! BTW Volver a Comenzer is a real song, so if you want to hear it look it up ;)**


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